


Say that Living Life Alone Isn't How the Story Ends

by whispered_story



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post 1x10, some homophobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9098512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispered_story/pseuds/whispered_story
Summary: After everything that's happened, Philip thinks maybe every breath he'll take from now on will hurt.  [post 1x10 fic]





	

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to [non_tiembo_mala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala/) for beta'ing this and shout out to everyone who cheered me on on twitter <3
> 
> Title taken from David Berkeley's "Straw Man".

Philip quietly eases the door to the hospital room open, keeps his steps careful as he enters in case Lukas is asleep. Under the white sheets, blond hair fanned out messily on the pillow, Lukas looks pale and young. 

Philip is halfway across the room when Lukas opens his eyes. Slowly, sleepily. Something that's not quite a smile tugs at his lips when he sees Philip. 

"Hey," he murmurs.

The smile Philip tries to give him in return feels weak, wobbly. His lips are trembling. His hands are, too – small tremors that he can't stop, running up into his arms. He sinks down on the edge of the mattress, by Lukas' side, and exhales. One, two, three. He counts his breaths, all careful and measured, and they feel like a chore. Like he has to work for his chest to rise and fall. 

He startles a little when Lukas places a hand on his.

"Hey," Lukas repeats. It's not a greeting this time. Too soft, too worried. 

Philip blinks, his eyes watery, burning, damp lashes brushing against his skin. 

"Hey," he echoes. His voice breaks on that one word, his throat feeling too dry. He smoothes a thumb over the cuff of his suit jacket nervously, staring down at their hands. 

Philip has never worn a suit before. He never wants to again after this. If it wasn't for the fact that he knows Helen and Gabe paid quite a bit of money on this one, he would burn it. As it is, he's probably going to stuff it in the back of his closet and try to never, ever look at it again.

Another deep breath. His chest is aching, feeling too tight, too small for the air he's sucking in. Philip wonders if it's possible to suffocate on air, because it feels like that's what's happening to him.

He turns his hand over underneath Lukas' and curls his fingers around Lukas' hand, finding a small source of comfort in the simple touch. He likes the way their hands fit together, the way Lukas' hand feels in his, on his skin. His fingers are long and thin, yet strong, and they always make Philip feel so good. A simple touch from Lukas can bring him so much pleasure and comfort, make him feel cherished and loved and taken care of. 

He wishes Lukas would touch him all the time, 24/7. That they could always hold hands, giving him strength and support and letting him know Lukas is right there. That he never leaves, not even for one moment.

Philip doesn't think he can stand another person leaving him.

"You want to talk about it?" Lukas asks gently. 

The thought of talking, voicing his thoughts, makes Philip's stomach turn.

For a split second, there's a masochistic part of Philip that wishes the old Lukas was back, the one that pushed him away and tried to fight him every step of the way, because that Lukas never wanted to talk. And yet this makes his chest loosen a little, his heart feel a little lighter. Like maybe it isn't broken beyond repair just yet.

Philip shakes his head, hair falling into his face. "Can we just... not?" he asks, because he _can't_ talk about it and he doesn't want to make something up, to lie to Lukas just for the sake of saying something. He's made up so many stories in his life—to cope when things got rough, to survive, sometimes just to get attention—, but he thinks he's all out of lies now, has nothing left in him to say. "Just... tell me something. Make me forget."

"Uh, okay," Lukas says, voice full of hesitation. He clears his throat. "I get to go home tomorrow."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The doctors ran some tests this morning. I need to rest and shit, but man, I can't wait to get out of here," Lukas says, and the enthusiasm in his voice is just a little too much to be convincing, but Philip appreciates the gesture.

"Awesome," he replies, playing along. It's better to act normal, to think about Lukas getting out of the hospital, that he's alive and fine. Better than reliving the image of the casket being lowered into the ground, the feeling of Helen's hand in his and Gabe's on his shoulder while Philip just tried to breathe. 

It's been a few hours. Hours he spent wandering around, aimlessly, after convincing Helen and Gabe that he'd rather be alone, that he _needed_ to be alone, and he's still having trouble breathing. 

Maybe, he thinks, this is his new life now. A life where every breath he takes will hurt, make him ache deep inside and remember.

+

Things are different and yet it feels like nothing has changed.

Same town he hasn't quite gotten used to yet, same foster parents who don't quite feel like his family yet even though they're trying, same classmates who aren't his friends, who look at him differently, weirdly.

Before, he was the freak, the new kid with the junkie mother and nobody who cared about him. Now he's the freak who was almost killed by a psycho murderer, whose mother was murdered, and who, for reasons Philip knows nobody gets, is somehow, suddenly close friends with one of the most popular guys at school. He wonders if they'd be less or more puzzled if they knew about Lukas and him, if that would make it better or worse. If it would make him more or less of a freak.

He's not quite sure he'll ever find out. He’s not sure that Lukas will ever tell these people about them.

Philip doesn't really care anymore. He did before. He used to see Lukas and Rose together, holding hands and kissing, and wished so desperately it was him instead of Rose, longed to be close to Lukas so much it made him feel a little sick sometimes. Hopeless and alone. He's okay with it now, because things are different. He feels different. He's still in love with Lukas, still wants him more than he can really explain, but he feels this odd numbness, too, now. It doesn't matter anymore what others think about him or do to him or if he'll ever have his wish to be with Lukas – to really be with him– come true.

Even if all of his wishes suddenly came true, his mother would still be gone. There'd still be a hole inside of him, one that he can't imagine will ever be filled now. No matter what, things will never feel quite right, quite complete for him.

Lukas may be his now. Just in secret, sure, but he's still his. Only it doesn't feel like a victory, not like he thought it would. A fucking sad and broken hallelujah, is what it feels like.

+

School, especially, becomes a new kind of torture. Unless someone wanted to prove a point, everyone more or less ignored him before. It hurt, too, being ignored and feeling so alone all the time, but he supposes it was better than getting beaten up and called names.

It was better than how things are now, too.

Now, everyone whispers when he passes by them in the hallway. They stare at him during class, like they're waiting. He's not sure for what. For him to lose it, to freak out? To get up in the middle of class and start screaming? To break down in tears? Or, maybe, to tell them about the murders he saw, about seeing Lukas get shot, about being held at gunpoint, locked in the trunk of a car. About seeing Helen kill Ryan Kane, and saving his life. 

Philip just ducks his head and tries to focus on anything but his classmates.

 _Keep your head down_ , he silently tells himself. Over and over.

He wishes Lukas was there with him, deflecting, supporting him. He feels a little guilty for it, because things wouldn't be any easier for him. They probably wouldn't just stare at him either, but pester him for information. Because Lukas isn't the strange new kid without friends. Everyone loves Lukas, is friends with him. They probably won't accept it if he doesn't tell them at least _something_ and Philip knows how much Lukas will hate it.

But he just wants someone there with him, wants someone to be in his corner. He wants to be able to sneak into the janitor's closet with Lukas when it gets too much and hide in his arms until he feels like he can face the rest of the school again.

Just a little bit longer, he silently tells himself. A few more days and Lukas will be back, will finally be feeling better, good enough to go to school. To share this damn misery with Philip and maybe, hopefully, make it feel a little less damning.

+

Philip has a picture of him and Lukas that he took the night Lukas told him about breaking up with Rose, when they were hanging out in the barn. It's dark and a little grainy, the two of them pressed together, Philip wrapped up in Lukas' arms, both of them smiling into the camera.

He tapes it to on the wall behind his desk, next to a picture of his mother.

It's the two people he loves most in the world – the one he lost and one he isn't sure he can live without anymore – side by side. Looking at them, he wants to smile and cry.

+

Philip is staring blindly down at a novel he has to read for class when his phone chirps, signaling an incoming text.

He knows it's from Lukas before he picks up the phone – mostly because there are only three people in the world who ever really text him and two of them are right downstairs. 

_Busy?_ , the text reads.

Philip licks his lips and texts back a quick no.

_Want me to come over?_

_You can't drive your bike yet_ , Philip texts back.

It only takes a few seconds. _My dad offered to drive me. Crazy, right?_

And yeah, it is crazy. Crazy and strange, but oh so damn good, because it's Saturday and Philip has been stuck inside his own head with nothing but his thoughts all day, and he needs a break, needs everything to stop for a few moments. Lukas makes things stop – the thoughts, the pain, the memories. He doesn't quite take the ache away, but he makes it better, bearable.

_I need to ask Helen and Gabe. Give me a sec._

He tosses the phone onto the mattress without waiting for a reply and slips off it. 

Downstairs, Gabe and Helen are sitting on the couch, discussing what movie to watch, two glasses of wine sitting on the table. There's something so cozy, so nice about the picture and it _hurts._

_My mom is dead_ , Philip thinks. For the thousands time this day, the thought crosses his mind. Unwanted, unbidden, unrelenting. It keeps popping into his head at all times. Triggered by things that remind him of her or those he never got to have with her but wanted so much, so desperately. Things he'll never get to have now, not with her.

Philip clears his throat, feeling awkward, and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Hey, Philip. What's up?" Helen asks, looking up. "You change your mind about watching a movie with us?"

Family night, she had suggested earlier.

_My mom is dead._

Helen and Gabe think of him that way now; he's family. Their kid, for all intents and purposes.

_My mom is dead._

_And Lukas is fine. And I have a home and two people who want me here. And my mom is dead. Deaddeaddead._

"Philip?" Gabe prompts gently. 

"Uh. No, not really," Philip says. His voice is too thick, throat closing up. He shrugs and bumps his leg against the side of the couch. "Just wanted to ask if it's okay if Lukas comes over."

"Is he feeling up to it?"

"He's doing better," Philip says and shrugs. "His dad thinks it's okay." 

Helen's eyebrows shoot up at that, a look of surprise on her face. "Well, okay. Yeah, sure," she says. 

"That's really good news, right?" Gabe adds, in that careful, kind tone he likes to use with Philip. 

Philip nods. He takes a step back. "I'm just going to go text him," he says.

Gabe nods, but Helen stops him, calls his name out quietly. 

"Yeah?" 

"Just... keep the door open a bit when Lukas gets here, okay?" 

Oh. _Oh,_ Philip thinks and almost, _almost_ wants to smile. He's not used to rules – never needed rules like this one before – and it's weird while oddly grounding. It’s reassuring because Helen is setting rules and Philip wants to protest and rebel and _that's good_. That's normal and it makes him feel a little more normal, too. 

"Yeah, okay," he agrees and Helen gives him a smile. 

"Good. Thank you," she says, and Philip nods. 

+

"Are you actually doing homework?" Lukas asks, stepping into the room.

Philip looks up from the book he's been staring at and not reading, and shrugs. "Figured it couldn't hurt," he says and decides not to mention that he doesn't actually have to read the novel for another week or so. But he's all caught up with assignments for once, has read ahead in almost all his classes, because it gives him something to do. Something to focus on.

"God, you're weird," Lukas mutters and turns to close the door. Philip clears his throat.

"Don't close it all the way," he says.

"What?"

Philip shrugs at the confused expression on Lukas' face. "Helen's rules," he says, and Lukas actually looks a little amused.

"Okay," he agrees and keeps the door just a small crack open before he joins Philip on his bed. He looks better than the last time Philip saw him, a few days ago. Still pale, but Lukas is always pale. He looks less sickly, though, dark circles under his eyes all but gone. Philip leans in and steals a quick, slow kiss, because he's allowed to. He can do that now, without having to think about it.

Lukas smiles and sits back, getting a bit more comfortable. Like he's been in Philip's room, Philip's bed, a thousand times.

"I brought you something," he says, and picks up his backpack from the ground next to the bed. He opens it up and pulls out a bottle of beer, a grin on his face.

"Oh. You did, did you?" Philip replies. "Brought a beer just for me?"

"Well, yeah. You have to share."

Philip snorts. "If Helen and Gabe find out, there'll probably a whole 'nother set of rules beside the open door one," he says.

Lukas shrugs, grin still firmly in place. "Guess we just have to be careful then," he says and twists the bottle open. He takes a long sip before handing it over to Philip, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"Are you even allowed to mix this with your painkillers?" Philip asks.

Lukas shrugs. "I'm good. Not even taking that many anymore," he says. "I can actually go back to school on Monday. Never thought I'd be happy about that, but having to rest is _boring_."

"Yeah," Philip says. He takes a sip from the beer, smaller than Lukas', and then scratches his nails against the label, peeling the paper away a little. "So, your dad dropped you off, huh?"

"I know. Fucking weird, right?" Lukas asks. 

"He's okay with..." Philip waves his hand between them.

Lukas snorts and shrugs. "I don't know, man. We talked some. It's awkward, but I can't remember the last time we actually talked, you know? I think Gabe and he talked and it really got through to him," he says. "I mean, he's not thrilled, but it's better than me taking drugs and going off the rails."

It startles a laugh out of Philip, quiet but still, a real, honest laugh. It's the first time he's laughed in a while, since _before_. Since the few hours he spent with Lukas in that motel room. Having sex while his mother was dying. Having sex, getting the one thing he'd so desperately wanted for weeks, while not knowing what was being taken away from him at the same time. And how fucked up can someone's life actually be? 

He remembers the exact moment he laughed, too. When Lukas had fumbled with the small pack of lube, some of it dripping down on his own chest, his face flushed with embarrassment and excitement. It had been a little awkward and a whole lot perfect. 

Philip wonders if that was the exact moment his mom died, while he was laughing and happy. Or if it had been later, when he worked himself down on Lukas, or after, when they'd laid there together, quiet and sated. Content in a way that Philip has rarely ever been, even with the fear cloaking them.

All Philip ever wanted was to be happy and it's like he keeps getting glimpses, little moments that feel good and right, before everything crumbles and goes to shit. And how sad is it that having sex, while knowing a murderer was looking for him and Lukas, wanting them dead, was one of the happiest moments of his life? That those moments, that short span of time, are what has gotten him through the last few weeks, what he's held on to so tightly when things started to spin too much out of control.

He takes another sip of the beer and then sets the bottle aside. Lukas watches him, quiet, intent. He doesn't say anything, doesn't ask any questions when Philip shifts closer and lays his head on his shoulder, curls up against him. Lukas smells familiar, his hair brushing against Philip's forehead, his body warm and alive. Philip closes his eyes. He feels lips against his temple, fingers carding carefully through his hair.

"I missed you," Lukas murmurs, all softly like it's an admission he isn't sure he should share. Philip turns his head, nuzzles the pale skin of Lukas' throat and sighs.

"Yeah," he agrees, and Lukas' arms slide around him, holding him close. For the first time since that day Kane caught them, he feels like the world slows down, stops spinning so crazily around him, making him dizzy.

Quietly, trying to hold it back, hold it in but unable to do so, Philip starts to cry.

+

The party in Red Hook is in full swing when they arrive.

It takes two beers and two shots for Lukas to kiss Philip. They're out in the backyard, where everyone can see, when he pulls Philip in by the hem of his shirt and ducks his head down, kissing Philip full on the mouth. There's no way anyone can have any doubt about what's going on between them then, no way with how Lukas slides his mouth against Philip's, the way his arms come around him, hold him close. It can’t be written of as anything but what it is. 

Philip hears the surprised gasps and exclamations around them. A few drunk cheers mix with slurred insults and mutters about it being gross, and he doesn't care. He doesn't care one bit, because he's being kissed in _public_.

And Philip loves him. He loves him so much and it hurts, everything hurts, but this isn't an entirely bad pain now. This is him getting what he wanted and what he hoped for and his life is one shitty moment after the other, it’s crumbled and burned to ashes, but at least there's this. At least there's _Lukas._ Lukas, who loves him enough to want to be open about it, to not hide him anymore. After everything, all the fighting and pushing and pulling and _pain_ , this is the choice Lukas is finally making: to be true to himself, and to love Philip openly, consequences be damned.

They part, breathless and flushed, with a soft wet smacking noise that sounds so loud in Philip's ears he thinks the entire town must be able to hear it. Lukas is grinning at him, a little sloppy and drunk, and Philip huffs out a laugh.

"God, you're so _stupid_ ," he says. Over Lukas' shoulder, he catches a glimpse of Rose. She's watching them, giving him a small, tight smile despite the hurt written all over her face. Philip swallows and takes a careful step back from Lukas. Weeks ago, he wanted to do nothing more than rub it in. Wanted to get up in her face and tell her exactly what Lukas and he did when they were alone when she was being so damn insufferable. But she's not the enemy, not anymore – she's just someone who cares about Lukas, too, and he feels a weird kind of kinship with her.

He smiles at her, awkward and hesitant, and then looks back at Lukas. "Let's go get another drink," he suggests.

+

Philip wakes up with his face smushed into Lukas' shoulder, lips parted against smooth skin. His mouth has that distinct bitter, taste, that cottony feeling of too much alcohol in it and there's definitely some drool there and it's pretty damn gross but mostly still kinda nice, waking up with his boyfriend.

His _boyfriend_. 

Philip snorts.

"Wha'?" Lukas mumbles and turns, arm sliding firmly around Philip's back and pulling him tightly against him. Philip shifts, getting more comfortable as he tangles their legs. 

"Nothing," he says. Lukas hums and starts tracing lines onto the small of Philip's back, thumb skating over bare skin. 

Philip wonders if this is what all people feel like in relationships. This quiet sense of contentment, the way those warm arms around him drown out the pain, need mingling with the desire to never move, to stay like this forever and never have to face the world again. To just touch and kiss and _be_.

"Dude," Lukas interrupts the quiet, voice hushed and awed. "I totally kissed you in front of everyone."

Philip huffs. "Yeah," he says. "Regret it yet?"

In reply, Lukas cups his face and tilts it up, bringing their lips together. It's like the kiss last night, slow and unhurried. Lukas' mouth tastes even worse than Philip's does, and his lips are a little chapped, and it shouldn't be good, but it is. Philip licks at Lukas' mouth, asking, demanding, until Lukas gives him what he wants, kisses him more deeply, more firmly, tongues sliding together hotly as Lukas rolls Philip onto his back and settles on top of him.

+

If Philip thought people were staring before, they're really staring now. Openly, unabashed.

Not everyone has a problem with it – some girls seem quite excited by it, actually, and that completely puzzles Philip. But even those who don't _hate_ them still stare. Philip feels a little like an animal in a zoo instead of just a gay kid with a boyfriend. He hates it.

Lukas is another story. Philip can tell how uncomfortable it makes him, how weirded out he is. But he doesn't pull away, doesn't push him back the way Philip was a little afraid he might. Instead he holds his head high and Philip's hand tightly, like he's daring people to say something, do something. Determined. Unyielding. Like he's trying to prove something – to them, to himself, maybe to Philip.

The confidence is faked, but Philip still feels proud of him. One day, he hopes, it won't be. One day Lukas will walk with his head held high, proud and unafraid and, hopefully, Philip will still be right there by his side.

He rubs Lukas' thumb with his when they hold hands, offers him small, encouraging smiles when their eyes meet and hopes he'll always get to do this.

"Don't let it bother you, he's an idiot," he murmurs when some guy passes them in the hallway and mutters _fag_ under his breath. 

Lukas nods, his jaw set, and then pushes Philip into the row of lockers on their left. Their eyes meet for a split second, before Lukas pushes in close and kisses him. It's quick and firm, and when he pulls back again, Philip smiles proudly at him. Lukas acts as if nothing happened, just takes Philip's hand back in his and gets them moving again.

A few people surprise them though. Rose, very deliberately, sits down with them during lunch and some of Lukas other friends join them, too. Not all of them, Philip thinks, but it’s enough.

+

Helen sits down on the porch with him, a mug of coffee clutched between her hands. "This is nice," she says, leaning back.

"Long day?" Philip asks, just to make conversation. They're getting better at this, him and Helen – talking, getting to know each other, being a family. 

"Yeah," Helen says. "I love my job, but sometimes it's just nice to be home."

"Yeah," Philip agrees, like he knows what she's talking about. Helen smiles.

"Any big plans for the weekend? It's Friday – you and Lukas doing anything tonight?"

Philip huffs. "You mean like a _date_?"

"Yeah."

Philip shakes his head. "No," he says. "I mean, we'll hang out or something. But not… you know, _go out_."

Helen hums and takes a sip from her coffee. "Why not?"

"I don't know. It's just not our thing," Philip explains, shrugging, though deep down he can't help but think it would be nice to go out, go see a movie somewhere or have dinner. Something totally cliché and normal. 

"Hmm." Helen shifts, looking at him. "How are you two doing? You okay?"

"We're good. Fine," Philip says, then sighs, reminds himself to talk, to give a little. He's been getting so much from Helen and Gabe, more than he'll ever be able to repay them for. "People at school know about us now. It's kinda weird."

"How does Lukas feel about it?" Helen asks, frowning. "I know this whole thing has been really hard on him." 

"He's... okay. He wanted people to know." The thought still makes him feel a little giddy, knowing Lukas not only likes him, wants to be with him, but wants people to know, wants to not hide it. He's wanted this so much, for so long. No matter how much he liked to act like being gay has never been a problem for him in his life, it hasn't been quite as easy as he likes people to think. He never had a problem accepting it, accepting himself, but that doesn't mean everyone else did and he used to be so jealous of all the straight kids in school, who dated and had relationships while Philip was always alone. He never had anyone, never let anyone close. Until Lukas. Until the moment he saw Lukas and just _wanted_ , wanted to be with him and share himself with him and let Lukas see him for who he really is.

"That's good, right?" Helen asks, but doesn't wait for his reply before she continues, "And he's treating you all right?"

Philip snorts. "Yeah, he is."

"No more fighting?"

"Nah, his days of punching me are over," Philip says dryly.

Helen cracks a smile at that. "Well, that's something I guess," she says. "You know, maybe he should come over for dinner sometime. So Gabe and I can get to know him."

"You already do know him," Philip points out.

"Not as your _boyfriend_ ," Helen says, stressing the word. Philip ducks his head, feeling his cheeks heat up. He's been calling Lukas his boyfriend in his head, but they haven't talked about it, haven't said the word aloud yet. "He is your boyfriend now, right?"

"Yes," Philip says and it's not quite a lie, because they _are_ in a relationship. Not even Lukas is denying that anymore.

"Good. 'Cause if not we would have had to talk about him staying over here all the time."

"Not all the time," Philip tries. 

Helen gives him a smile, just a little patronizing.

"I'll ask him," Philip gives in. Helen is like a dog with a bone when she makes up her mind about something, pushing and prodding until she gets what she wants. And the thought of Lukas having dinner with them, all official and everything, is kinda nice. 

"I promise I won't cook," Helen says with a small smile. "And you two are being careful, right? Being safe?"

The words make Philip freeze, dread making his stomach clench, his palms getting clammy. "What do you mean?" he asks, voice choked. "W—we're not in danger anymore, right?"

"Philip, no. _No._ That's not what I'm talking about," Helen says, quick and soft, her voice assuring. She reaches over to where he's sitting, putting her hand on his arm and giving it a small squeeze. "I mean, you guys are using protection, right?"

Philip stares at her, the words sinking in. "Oh my god," he says, with a long exhale. His face heats up, terror replaced by humiliation.

"Philip."

Philip ducks his head, not wanting to meet Helen's eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, we're… uh… good," he stutters out, feeling mortified because his foster mother is asking him if he and his boyfriend are using condoms when they have sex. Which also means she knows, or assumes, they have sex. 

Helen pats his arm. "Good," she says. "And Philip? I'm glad you have someone who likes you and admits it, too. You know, a boyfriend who is nice to you."

The words hurt, make him remember his mother, but it's not entirely bad. It feels more nostalgic, an ache for his mother mixing with an appreciation for Helen, because she cares, too. She isn't trying to replace Anne, but she's trying in the best way she can to be the next best thing for Philip.

Philip nods.

+

They both have nightmares, he and Lukas.

Philip dreams about Ryan Kane, pointing a gun at him, about shooting. But it's never him crumbling to the ground. It's Lukas or his mom, blood pooling from a wound rapidly, and Philip can't do anything to help them. The fear, the terror, he feels in those dreams is so real he wakes up shaking and crying, terrified.

It's easier when Lukas is staying over, when Philip can bury his face in Lukas chest and cling to him, can hear his voice as Lukas quietly shushes him, comforts him. He wakes up to Lukas thrashing around, too, pained moans and whimpers coming from him. It’s just as often and Philip will murmur quiet words in turn, card his fingers through Lukas' hair until he wakes up, calms down.

It's awful when he's alone. Those nights, when his dreams manage to wake up him, Philip will usually stay awake, read or mess around on his laptop until the sun rises and it's time to get up.

He never dares to fall asleep again when Lukas isn't there with him.

+

Philip holds on tightly to Lukas, the bike shooting through the open space. It's so familiar to him now – the way the air rushes past him, the rocky ground making the bike shake, the warm press of Lukas' body against his.

When Lukas stops, in the middle of nowhere, Philip slides off the bike and takes off his helmet. "You want me to shoot some footage?" he asks, already reaching for the phone in the pocket of his jeans.

Lukas shakes his head, dismounting as well, and pulls his helmet off, too, putting it down onto the seat. "Not right now. Maybe later."

"Okay," Philip agrees and looks around. "What did you want to do then?"

"Just wanted to be alone with you," Lukas says and takes a step closer. He catches the hem of Philip's jacket and tugs him closer. "Maybe we can ride around a little later. I can teach you some stuff."

"No jumps," Philip quickly says. Lukas grins.

"No jumps for you," he agrees and pulls Philip into a kiss. It's a quick one, but then Lukas comes back in for a second and third, slowing it down, one hand cradling Philip's face, the other cupping his neck. He likes do to that when they kiss, take Philip's face in his hands and Philip likes it, how Lukas takes charge, sets the pace.

He pushes up into it, silently asks for more. They stay like this, standing flush together, kissing. Philip's helmet is still dangling from his hand, a dead weight as he curls his arms around Lukas.

He wishes they could stay like this forever. Wrapped up in each other, tangled together. With each day, Philip is starting to feel a little better, yet it feels like he's clinging to Lukas more and more. Now that he gets to, that he's allowed to touch and be close to him whenever he wants to, it's like he can't get enough. Lukas is his main source of comfort, one of the few things that make him happy, make him feel good.

"You're thinking too much," Lukas murmurs against his lips, the words tickling.

Philip tips his head back and smiles, looking up at Lukas' face, his pale skin a little flushed, his lips red and damp with their spit. "Oh yeah? Can you read minds now too, Mr. Waldenbeck?"

"Oh yeah."

"What am I thinking about then?" Philip challenges, grinning. 

"How much you love me and how you really want to get me naked, if it wasn't so cold," Lukas says lightly, eyes glinting. He's beautiful without all this weight and fear bearing him down, tearing at him. Philip leans up, brushes his mouth against Lukas' chin, his jaw.

"It is kinda cold," he admits.

Lukas hums and draws him back in, close, until Philip rests his head on his shoulder, buries his face in Lukas' neck and breathes in the familiar scent.

"I had another dream last night," Lukas says, quieter, softer. Serious.

Philip squeezes his arms around him, kisses his neck. 

"We were back at the cabin this time. That night... except it felt like forever. He kept pointing the gun at you, was going to squeeze the trigger and it felt like time stopped and I couldn't move," Lukas says, exhaling loudly. He turns his head, fingers now tangled in Philip's hair. He kisses the side of Philip's face.

"It's been getting better, though. I didn't have dreams every night this week," he adds, sounding proud. Relieved. "And it's the weekend now, so I can stay over at your place. That'll be good."

Philip nods and slowly untangles himself again. "Be careful, Lukas Waldenbeck, or you might just turn into a well-adjusted human being."

"Funny."

"Yeah, I'm really hilarious," Philip agrees. Lukas looks at him, all soft and sweet, not reacting to Philip's attempt at humor.

"You're pretty great," he says. "And I sleep better when you're around, you know."

"Me too," Philip admits. He takes another step back and grins, lifting his helmet up for show. "So. Ready to teach me before we both get too damn cold out here?"

"All ready," Lukas says with a nod. He grabs Philip's arm though, tugs him in to bring their lips together. "First rule. You pay me in kisses."

"Deal," Philip says, but then he dances out of the way, laughing a little at the small frown that appears on Lukas' lips.

+

It's cold outside, the sky heavy with dark clouds, rain splattering steadily against the windows. The last snow has just melted, the white replaced by gray. It's miserable, but Philip kinda likes it. There's something about the gloomy atmosphere that he's drawn too, that makes him feel both sad and weirdly elated.

Sighing, he leans back into Lukas' chest, smiling at the kiss that's pressed against his neck.

The house is quiet, but the silence doesn't feel as oppressing as it would have a few weeks ago. It's comforting, peaceful.

Lukas' hand slides down on his stomach, fingers toying with the hem of Philip's shirt, and he nuzzles Philip's neck. His long legs are caging Philip in where he sits nestled between Lukas' knees. Warm. Safe.

Absently, Philip plays with Lukas' fingers, running his own over them, tangling and untangling them. Across the room, his gaze settles on the two pictures taped above his desk. Lukas and his mom. It makes his chest ache a little knowing she's not here anymore, today of all days.

"It's my birthday today," he says into the silence. Quiet, soft.

Lukas shifts, kisses his jaw. "Yeah. I kinda know."

"You do?"

"Hmm."

"Oh," Philip murmurs and twists his head back to look at Lukas. His expression is open, soft, and Philip can't help but feel relaxed. Okay. He's been freaking out about this day for a little while now, dreading it. It's his first birthday without his mom and that _hurts_. Birthdays have never been great – no special cake, no mountain of presents and no parties. But his mom always tried, as best as she could, to make the day special for him and that was all he ever wanted.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted to celebrate, so I wasn't gonna say anything. I got you a present, though. I was just gonna leave it here for later, after I'm gone," Lukas admits and then ducks his head a little. "And Helen and Gabe maybe asked me to stay for dinner. But it's no big deal."

"No, that's... that sounds nice."

And surprisingly it does. Philip thinks he wouldn't be able to bear it if they'd made a big deal out of today. If they'd, unknowingly, given him everything his mother never could give him. But dinner sounds nice. Dinner sounds normal.

Lukas stays over for dinner regularly and it's always a quiet, understated affair. The first time, Helen subtly interrogated Lukas, but Lukas didn't seem to mind too much and everyone relaxed halfway through. Nowadays, Lukas seems to be as much of as a family member as Philip and Philip loves that. As much as he loves spending time with Lukas alone, he secretly cherishes those dinners and times spent with Helen and Gabe. They're the only three people in this world he is really close to, who he cares about, and having all three of them in one room makes him feel at ease, safe.

He strokes his fingers over Lukas', feels the dip and rise of his knuckles. "As long as Helen isn't cooking," he says, going for a light tone, not sure how to convey how grateful he is that they're not making a big deal out of the day, that they're letting Philip set the pace.

"I think she said she was going to get pizza on her way back," Lukas says and then glances at the alarm clock on the nightstand, before waggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly. "Which means we still got plenty of time before they get here."

Philip smiles, can't help _but_ smile around Lukas, and leans up. He kisses Lukas, soft and dry, and then he pushes up into it, shifts for a better angle, and Lukas responds right away. He cups Philip's face with one hand, the other one pulling Philip closer against him, curling in the fabric of his shirt.

Their kisses turn heavier, more insistent, and before long Philip finds himself flipped on his back, Lukas tugging him down and settling between his legs.

They've done this often enough by now that there's some familiarity in it. And yet it still feels exhilarating, new. Before Lukas, Philip had never gone much further than making out with guys at clubs. For a while, he'd ever doubted he'd get to have something like this – a guy that loves him, who he loves, too. And then Lukas had come along and all Philip wanted was him, but the possibility of sex – sex with Lukas – had seemed even more unlikely for a while.

Now, Lukas is all his and _this_ is all his. And it's amazing – the rush of their bodies rocking together, seeking, needing. The feeling of skin on skin as they undress, fingers fumbling and impatient. That moment when they're finally naked, that small moment of hesitation being washed away by Lukas looking at him in awe, every single time, like he can't believe he gets to have this. And god, Philip likes to look right back. Lukas is beautiful. So tall and lean, his skin pale and perfect, all his to touch and kiss.

Philip feels it now too, this rush, when they lose the last of their clothes and Lukas grinds down against him, their cocks hard and dripping pre-come between them, sliding together as they move, rocking together. Lukas' fingers skate down his sides, glide over Philip's skin, as he kisses a wet path down Philip's neck. Philip just moans, tipping his head back, his hips twitching eagerly, wantonly.

The sheets stick to his body, slightly coarse fabric glued to sweat-damp skin. "P-please," he says and he doesn't even know what he's asking for. He never does. More, anything, everything. Whatever Lukas is willing to give him, Philip will gratefully take.

And then he hears the snick of the bottle of lube he keeps stashed away in his bedside dresser, hidden under things to hide it from prying eyes, and his whole body flushes.

"Okay?" Lukas asks as he slides his hand behind Philip, slick fingers sliding between his cheeks. Searching. Philip nods, a little frantically. He doubts there'll ever come the day where he won't want this, won’t crave this.

The first push in is still a little weird, but the feeling fades quickly and all Philip is left with is the feeling of Lukas' finger moving in and out and the sounds of their harsh breathing and soft moans mingling in the silence around them. Philip is never quiet in bed and Lukas makes these soft, guttural sounds, all broken and turned on, that Philip soaks up. He's wanted this for a long time, but he never thought how much it would turn him on that Lukas is so into it – not the sex, but this part. The kissing and touching and preparation. The way Lukas fingers him open, takes him apart and draws out all these little moans and whimpers with clever fingers and slow, careful touches. Philip thinks Lukas was taken as much by surprise by it as he was, but he’s all in now, reservations all gone.

Lukas pulls his fingers free then, grabs the condom.

"Please," Philip murmurs again and Lukas shoots him a smile, kisses him – once, twice, three times – and then rolls the condom down his cock and adds some more lube. He pushes Philip's legs up and out, positions himself before he starts pressing in. Philip's hands fumble for Lukas, clutching his shoulders, his arms, needing to feel the warm, smooth skin.

It's weird and amazing and like more than he ever dreamed of, the feeling of Lukas pushing into his body, stretching him, filling him. Lukas is everywhere – inside him and around him, filling his body and mind until it's all there is. LukasLuka _Lukas_. Beautiful, unattainable, but somehow his.

Philip moans, loud and broken, and Lukas catches his mouth in a kiss, muffles the noise.

It's slow, but not quite gentle. Hands clutching and bodies rocking together, mouth seeking out mouth, their kisses wet and deep, noises choked off and needy. Lukas presses in and in and in, and Philip does his best to meet his thrusts, his body chasing the pleasure Lukas gives him, strung tight and wanting more.

When he comes, it's like the world around him explodes, pleasure shooting down his spine, making him arch and cry out, his release sticky and sudden.

"Fuck, Philip," Lukas groans, fingers twisting in Philip's hair, mouth pressed wetly against his jaw. "Philip."

He comes, too, his breathing damp and harsh, their bodies tangled together, still moving, fingers holding on tight enough to leave bruises. It's like they're trying to merge together, to become so untangled they can't tell where one ends and the other begins, and, to Philip, nothing has ever sounded more perfect.

+

Dinner is normal. Nice.

Nobody mentions Philip's birthday and Helen and Gabe suggest a trip to the city to go shopping that weekend so casually that anyone else would probably not think twice about it. Philip just smiles and asks if Lukas can come, too.

For a while, turning eighteen was everything Philip was waiting for. Eighteen meant nobody would be able to take him away from his mom, that he could do what he wanted and be where he wanted.

Now, here he is, finally of age, with a boyfriend that is, too. It should mean complete freedom. Independence. Yet, all Philip wants is this: a home, people who love him enough to make him rules for him, people who he loves enough to want to follow those rules for. After these past few months, the weeks after the cabin shooting and the endless weeks that followed Ryan Kane's death, his mother's death, this is what feels right to him.

"Wouldn't be a family trip without him," Helen says, smiling and nudges Gabe. "Right?"

"Of course," Gabe nods. Philip returns their smile, soft and genuine.

Maybe, he thinks, it's time to add another photo to the wall above his desk.

+

"Are you sure you can't stay?" Philip asks, keeping his voice quiet. He kisses Lukas' throat, then his jaw, just soft brushes of his lips. They're outside, standing by Lukas' bike in the dim light coming from the porch, having been saying goodbye for the past fifteen minutes now.

"You know how my dad feels about me sleeping here on school days."

"Yeah," Philip says and sighs.

"I put your present on your bed," Lukas says with a patient smile. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

It hurts Philip a little, how much Lukas gets him, gets this. He moves in closer again, pulls Lukas into a hug. "Thank you," he says softly and then leans back to kiss him, mouths sliding together for a few, short moments.

When they break apart, Philip smiles, his chest feeling lighter than it has in a long time. He inhales, eyes fixed on Lukas, and a realization flashes through his mind. "It doesn't hurt to breathe," he murmurs.

Lukas draws his eyebrows together. "What?"

"Just... it doesn't hurt to breathe," Philip repeats, not quite sure how to explain. The thought is it too overwhelming, and he feels a little guilty for not realizing it sooner, for not knowing that he's been doing okay, has found a new kind of happiness he didn't think he would.

"Okay," Lukas says slowly, lips quirked in an amused smile. "That's good, I guess?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is."

Lukas laughs softly, shaking his head at him a little, and draws him into another quick kiss. "Stomach still hurts, though, right?" he mumbles against Philip's lips.

Philip smiles. "Yeah," he says, then adds, "You idiot."

"Good," Lukas says and cups Philip's face in his hands, lips brushing together in series of small, soft pecks. "Mine, too."

**the end**


End file.
